


FBaWtFT Kink Meme & Prompt Fills

by Udunie



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Domestic, Face-Sitting, Fix-It, Fluff, Haircuts, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prostitution, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-09-20 23:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9521663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Udunie/pseuds/Udunie
Summary: This will be a collection of short kink meme (and random prompt) fills for Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Not gonna lie, it will mostly be Credence/Original!Graves :D(I will keep it listed as 'Completed' as they will be independent oneshots)





	1. Credence/Original!Graves - domestic haircut

**Author's Note:**

> prompt:  
> Graves/Credence haircut  
> Just a domestic Graves giving Credence a GOOD haircut finally.

Percival came home to find his flat suspiciously silent. Not like Credence was usually loud - quite the opposite - but more often than not he found the boy reading on the couch with the radio softly playing in the background.

Today that wasn’t the case. There was an open book on the side table and a cup of unfinished tea, but the place was quiet and deserted. Percival didn’t know why he didn’t just call out and find his boy right away, but instead he quickly hung his coat and went to investigate.

There was light in the bathroom, yellow and inviting as it seeped through the slightly ajar door. He snuck up and pushed at it, just a little, and then stood there frozen, watching Credence.

The boy was using his pomade, trying to comb his hair back like Percival usually did. He looked ridiculous, of course; his overgrown bowl cut refusing to obey. It almost made him laugh, but then he caught the boy’s reflection in the mirror and quickly sobered. Credence looked miserable. Close to tears actually.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he asked, startling the boy. He immediately felt bad about it, but at least he didn’t feel like he was spying on him anymore.

Credence jumped at the sound of his voice, dropping the bottle of pomade, the glass shattering on the floor. He stumbled back, eyes wide and shoulders hunched, like he expected something horrible to happen, and Percival just couldn’t let that pass.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said, stepping into the bathroom, keeping his voice calm and even. It only took two flicks of his want to clean up the mess, the bottle whole again and back on the shelf where it belonged. “See? Good as new.”

Credence took a deep, shuddering breath, refusing to look at him.

“Come here?” Percival asked. He knew by now not to push, not when Credence looked so close to breaking himself.

There was a tense moment when nothing happened, but then - thankfully - Credence crossed the room in two long steps, hugging him close.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Welcome home.”

Percival rubbed his back for a bit, waiting until he could feel the boy relax against him before putting a bit of distance between them so he could see his face.

“So, you would like a haircut, my boy?” he asked, watching with just a touch of amusement as Credence turned a lovely shade of pink.

“I… yes? I didn’t want to… I mean, you work so much and it’s not important…”

Percival shook his head, smiling. He couldn’t remember smiling this much before Credence came into his life, but now it was important to let the boy know that all was right. He found that he liked it, at least when he could direct it at Credence.

“It’s okay. I like to know when you need something,” he said. The boy gave him a shy little nod of understanding. “I would say that we should visit the Goldsteins - I’m sure Queenie would know what to do - but they are away visiting Jacob's family.”

Credence nodded again, looking a bit crestfallen.

“Hey, that doesn’t mean we can’t do some quick fixing,” Percival told him, slowly walking Credence back to the mirror and conjuring a chair from the living room.

“Sit, my boy.”

Credence did without objection, but the line of his shoulders was still speaking about unease. Percival gave him a long look in the mirror, starting to massage the tense muscles.

“Don’t worry. I usually do my own hair, we will figure something out,” he said. He wasn’t an expert by any means, but… truth be told, he didn’t trust strangers around his head with sharp objects, he’d been taking care of his own hair since he became an auror.

“Now, what would you like, Credence?” 

The boy blinked up at him, his slight flush returned as soon as Percival started touching him, but at least he wasn’t wound so tight anymore.

“I… I don’t know. It’s. It’s always been like this and I just…”

Percival took pity on him.

“Want to try something different.”

Credence nodded, lovely dark eyes skittering away from him.

Percival considered him for a moment, thinking about their options.

“Alright. First of all, we have to clean you up a bit,” he said, taking out his wand again. He touched the tip to Credence’s hair, murmuring a spell to make all the pomade disappear, leaving the boy’s locks silky and clean. Credence shuddered as the magic ran along his scalp, his eyes falling closed.

“Our best bet would be to grow it out, I think. That way you will have something different, and when Queenie is back she will have more to work with.”

Credence didn’t reply, just gave a minute nod, his eyes still closed like he was afraid to look. That was alright. In Percival’s private opinion, he would look lovely no matter his hairdo.

This wasn’t exactly his area of expertise, but he did pick up a few things on basic training. Aurors had to know how to disguise themselves, and that included changing their appearance.

Credence shivered again when the fine tip of Percival’s wand touched him. The process was a bit more complicated; he had to work gradually, pulling his wand along the boy’s scalp in neat, even rows. He used his free hand to part the strands, carefully running his fingers through Credence’s hair over and over.

It was… shockingly intimate, and Percival couldn’t help but be affected by the picture the boy made with his pinked cheeks, his mouth slightly open, his long lashes fanning out over his skin. He was beautiful, and - amazingly - his face was becoming completely transformed as his hair slowly lengthened, evened out and fell down to curl around his ears in gentle waves.

He didn’t want to stop, charmed by the sight, almost like he was falling under a spell, repeating the growing charm over and over until Credence’s hair reached his shoulders, dark and velvety, in sharp contrast with his pale, creamy skin.

Percival had to swallow when he was finally finished, unable to pull his hands away. Credence cocked his head a bit, leaning into his touch, and that was what snapped him out of his stupor. They’ve been dancing around each-other for weeks now, but the boy… the boy was not ready yet. Percival wasn’t sure he was either.

“There you go,” he said, voice rougher than he expected.

Credence opened his eyes slowly, and Percival watched as they went wide with surprise then softened, a sweet smile blooming on his lips.

The boy caught his eyes in the mirror. He was breathtaking.

“Thank you.”


	2. Graves + Credence - fix it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from the kink meme:  
> Graves + Credence, Fix-It (Or make it worse)  
> Graves had been watching over Credence before Grindelwald supplanted him. During the big showdown, Graves manages to escape his prison and, despite being badly wounded, apparates to the scene.
> 
> Just in time to throw up shields to protect Credence from the aurors' attempts to kill him.
> 
> No-Angst Option:  
> The shield works. Credence survives, Grindelwald is defeated, and Credence gets to experience what it's like to have the real Graves fighting in his corner.
> 
> Angst Option:  
> Graves is weakened by torture and wandless, so while he's able to shield Credence the strain of it kills him. Credence survives, Grindelwald is defeated, but Credence will never truly know the man who gave everything to protect him.
> 
> ***
> 
> This is, of course, the no angst option! :D

Apparating like this was hard. It was harder with his leg bleeding from deep gashes and his ribs broken and pressing against his insides like knives poised to kill. He shouldn’t have been moving. He shouldn’t have been doing magic, and he definitely shouldn’t have been zig-zagging around the city searching for…

Percival couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been. How he could have allowed himself to be bested. He didn’t even know how long it had been since he’d been imprisoned in MACUSA, and the thought that he had been kept right there - right in front of his goddamned team this whole time - stuck into a closet barely made big enough by an extension charm just made him angrier.

He’d heard everything, even through the numbness forced on him; he heard Grindewald talk in his voice, demoting Goldstein, giving orders to his aurors, advising Seraphina. The thought of that hurt almost as much as the ribs, but he had no time for self-pity. Not when the most powerful dark wizard of their time was on the move, wearing his skin like an ill-fitting suit. 

Something dark told him that maybe it wasn’t so ill-fitting, after all,  _ nobody noticed _ … but he pushed it down.

He couldn’t apparate too far, especially not without knowing where he was going - and in this condition - so he moved in short spurts of motion, just a thousand-or-so feet at a time, trying to follow the sounds of fighting. It was still faster than walking or any kind of no-maj transport he could have flagged. It wasn’t good. He was getting exhausted, and he needed… he needed his strength if he wanted to stop Grindewald, if he wanted to save…

He was lucky that he noticed the blotch of pink on the dark sidewalk between apparating and disapparating, and he almost couldn’t believe his eyes. Queenie Goldstein with… with a no-maj, running towards the heart of New York.

Percival stumbled to a stop, almost collapsing from the whiplash.

“Goldstein,” he grunted, hoping that his voice would carry, despite how dry and rusty his throat felt. The witch stopped, turning around with her eyes wide with shock. There was one good thing in running into a legilimens of all things; he didn’t have to explain things.

The sturdy little no-maj on her side looked confused, but she covered her mouth with her hand in horror  - probably reading his thoughts like he hoped she would.

“Give me your wand,” Percival said. His voice was too weak and scratchy to demand, but she understood him. Understood his desperation and ran over, handing it to him with her eyes teary.

“Tina,” she whispered, shaking. Good. Tina was an excellent auror, maybe not all was lost yet.

“Where?”

She closed her eyes for a second, listening, trying to pinpoint her sister’s location.

“Underground. City Hall,” she said as her eyes snapped open.

Percival nodded, his fingers tightening around the unfamiliar wand and apparated.

***

Queenie Goldstein’s wand was made of rosewood with a mother of pearl handle shaped as snail shell. It was pretty and it was light. Quick and honest. 

No wand worked well in an unfamiliar hand. 

This wasn’t the wand of an auror. It wasn’t a wand made to fight, and that might have been what saved them all that day, because standing there - in the split second Percival had to make his move - between the swirling chaos of a terrified, hurting boy’s power and a dozen aurors ready to kill, he came to realize that this wand was made to  _ protect _ .

Time slowed down and he could see himself - could see Grindewald - as his eyes narrowed. He could see his own aurors, struggling with recognition; it was no wonder, he didn’t doubt that between his bloody, torn clothes and the beard covering his face they weren’t sure what they were seeing. Grindewald didn’t give them time.

“Destroy it!” he shouted, and it made Percival even angrier. Apparently the bastard wasn’t above sacrificing Credence if it meant getting him in the crossfire and saving his own hide. He could see the sudden shock of recognition on Seraphina’s face, but by then it was too late.

His aurors obeyed. Of course they did, he’d drilled them for countless hours to listen to him, to follow his lead without doubt. And now this was his reward.

Percival could feel Credence’ obscurus surging, scared and confused but still… still not lashing out, and it was enough to push him into motion.

“ _ Protego! _ ”

He didn’t expect it to succeed. He didn’t expect a wand like this to have enough power, but the charm burst forward with enough magnitude to make the air tremble and forced him to stumble back as it repelled the hexes aimed at him and his charge.

All hell broke loose. Seraphina was shouting at the aurors to stop, Grindewald raised his wand - Percival’s wand - and then Tina and a man he’d never seen before were standing beside him, raising their own shields, strengthening his. Some blue-green creature kept zagging between the spells coming at them, the hexes sliding off it’s scaly wings, missing their mark. 

The air behind their barrier felt like a vacuum, making his ears pop and he didn’t know for a second what was happening, but then there was a broken off sob behind him.  _ Credence _ .

Neither of them were foolish enough to look away from the battle, but Percival couldn’t stop himself from growling out a ‘Stay back!’ at the boy. 

His hand was trembling as he held Queenie’s wand. There wasn’t much left in him.

Seraphina was the one to end it, shooting off a spell that knocked Grindewald off his feet, the back of his head meeting the wall with a loud crack before his body slid to the floor. The aurors stopped mid-casting, shellshocked.

“Don’t let your guard down yet,” Percival told Tina and the stranger on his other side.

Seraphina stepped forward from the crowd of the confused aurors.

“Percival?” she asked. Her composure was already back. She was a hard woman.

“Madame President,” he said, refusing to lower his wand or… or call her name. All this time and she  _ hadn’t noticed _ .

She looked at the body on the floor, murmuring an incantation at it with a flick of her wand. The way the effects of the polyjuice potion melted off to reveal Grindewald beneath made Percival’s stomach churn.

Seraphina frowned, waving at a couple of aurors.

“What are you waiting for? Detain him,” she ordered, her voice cold and unreadable.

“How long?” she asked him, but Percival just shook his head with a bitter smile.

“Lost track of time, ma’am. But too long.”

She nodded. Tina started lowering her wand, but Percival glanced at her from the corner of his eyes and her hand snapped back into place. It didn’t avoid Seraphina’s attention.

“You know we can’t let him go,” she said, not even trying to look behind them, at Credence curled up in the corner, and if anything that was what ironed Percival’s resolve.

“Maybe. But we can protect him. Like we should have done in the first place.”

It had been her idea. Percival asked for her approval to contact the boy they thought was a no-maj, and she agreed. He told her that the young man was most likely a squib - part of their world by the right of his blood - and still, she asked him to hold off, to keep Credence as an informant. 

Percival shouldn’t have listened to her. He should have gone with his instincts. He should have done a lot of things, and if he was going to pay for it now, he was ready.

“Percival…” 

He looked her in the eye.

“I won’t stand down,” he said, words heavy with the implication. Over his dead body.

Tina cleared her throat.

“And neither will I,” she said, her voice trembling a bit under Seraphina’s unflinching gaze, but still determined.

“He’s innocent,” the redhead man said, surprising Percival with his accent. British.

Seraphina regarded them coolly, the aurors - Percival’s aurors, all of them handpicked from Ilvermorny - shifting behind her uneasily. 

The President nodded her head, gracious as always.

“So be it, but he’s your responsibility...  _ Director _ .”

Percival gave her a shaky smile.

“As you wish, ma’am.”

***

It has been way too long since he last saw Credence, and seeing him like this; curled into a little ball with his eyes red with crying and a bruise forming on the side of his face broke Percival’s heard. He limped over to him slowly, aware of the suspicious, dark eyes following his every move.

He stopped just out of reach, slowly lowering his bruised, worn body to the ground.

“Credence,” he said carefully, wishing that his voice was stronger, more reassuring.

The boy blinked.

“M… Mr. G-Graves?”

He nodded his head and the next second he had an armful of lanky, shaking boy. Percival ignored the creaking of his ribs and held him close.

He would do better this time.


	3. Pet name confusion - Credence/Grindegraves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pet name confusion
> 
> So what if Grindlewald isn't 100% sure if Credence is Graves sweetheart or his illigitamate son so keeps things as vague as possible when interacting with Credence while posing as Graves.  
> +omg and Credence even calls him Daddy and Grindelwald just can't fucking tell hahaha

Gellért is annoyed. He might be the most powerful wizard of his age... Well, no. There’s no ‘might be’ about it. He is. He  _ knows  _ that. The whole world knows that, that’s why they fear him, that’s why they are jealous of his vision.

Still, he isn’t above admitting his rare shortcomings; on occasion he tends to be a tad rash.

Oh, he knows all about planning and waiting and watching from the shadows as his plans come to fruition, but when he’s in the middle of action, sometimes he gets carried away.

You can’t really use legilimency on an unconscious person. Everything gets jumbled up in dreams and the subconscious. And he realizes, when heading out for his first meeting with the Salemer boy, that maybe - just maybe - he shouldn’t have used the Cruciatus curse on Percival Graves quite that enthusiastically, because now the man is useless. Alive, but useless.

Sorting through the memories he managed to grab when the Director of Magical Security was writhing in pain prove to be a tiny bit less helpful than he hoped.

Nonetheless. Gellért knows the man has a meeting planned with the boy in a few minutes and it would be suspicious if he didn’t show up.

He would just have to… play it safe.

There are a few memory fragments he managed to grab. He knows that Percival is fond of the boy, cares for him, worries for him, genuinely wants to bring him into the wizarding world despite his suspicions that he might be a squib. There are - undoubtedly - fatherly feelings in there, but also… also some other kind of feelings that nor he, nor Graves wants to examine too closely. Still, there seems to be a real connection between the two, something that should be easy to play on, except…

Alright. If he wants to be completely honest, Gellért is getting  _ worryingly  _ mixed signals here.

Unfortunately he doesn’t have much time before he arrives at the usual alley of their meeting, and of course the boy is already there.

“Mr… Mr. Graves,” he says, a bit breathless, looking at him with something close to wonder.

Careful, careful.

“Credence,” he says, stepping close. The boy shakes, and it’s hard to decide if he’s excited or intimidated. 

Gellért puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing down after a second of hesitation, and Credence melts into his touch.  _ Right _ . Not exactly helpful.

“My boy,” he says, trying to copy the tone of Graves saying the same words countless times before, affectionate but stern. The results are instantaneous, and Credence burrows closer, tucking his considerable height against Gellért’s chest. 

“Mr. Graves,” he says again, almost like a prayer, voice quiet and childish.  _ Damn  _ it.

The whole situation is idiotic. For once Gellért feels like he’s completely out of his depth, and has no idea how to proceed without blowing his cover, so he puts his arms around the boy’s back, hoping that he won’t notice how awkward he feels.

“All is well,” he says. That should be okay, right? “Have you found out anything?” He knows that Graves didn’t give the boy concrete instructions, just to report anything unusual around the church, and he - unlike Credence - also knows that it’s mostly just a pretense so they could keep seeing each-other.

Gellért wishes he could go back and torture Graves a bit more, because, once again, that could mean  _ anything _ .

“Nothing, nothing happened, Mr. Graves,” Credence says. Murmures it against his chest. Great. Awesome.

Gellért feels a bit panicked before steeling himself. He’s a powerful wizard. He can just obliviate the boy if he somehow missteps, right?

He turns his head a bit and brushes his lips against Credence’s temple. 

“That’s good, my boy,” he says. It’s intimate and the boy shudders, clinging to his coat. Lovers then. They  _ have  _ to be. He wants to start on his spiel, about how he needs Credence to help him find the Obscurus, but before he can get a word out the boy makes a strangled little sound. 

It takes Gellért a second to understand the barely audible word.

“Daddy…”

_ Excuse me? _

He knows that he looks like an idiot, staring at the ugly walls of the alley with wide eyes. Honestly, he is ready to bolt. Not lovers then. Graves’ bastard kid. Change of plans.

He lets his hold loosen a bit. It’s really not proper to hold one’s son quite that intimately. At least he assumes it isn’t proper. He’s just about to start again - trying for a slightly different tone - but then Credence returns the previous favor, shifting and kissing the line of his jaw, lips soft and hot against his skin.

What.

Gellért has two choices. Either he starts pulling out his hair or makes a hasty retreat and hopes to god he can sort this out somehow.

Credence looks crestfallen when he steps back, dark eyes looking at him… damn the whole godforsaken thing. Looking at him with some emotion that he apparently can’t figure out.

“I’m afraid we have to cut our meeting short,” he says, voice strained with his need to escape.

Credence opens his mouth then closes it, nodding sadly, and Gellért disapparates so fast that he almost splinches himself, feeling more confused than before their little randevu, thought he didn’t think that was possible.

Fucking Americans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *in case anyone is confused why I spelled Grindewald's name as 'Gellért' - I have accepted that my country has the dubious honor of supplying wizarding Hitler with a name, but if it has to be like that, I'm gonna fucking spell it properly :D


	4. Credence/Graves - Piss drinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graves/Any watersports
> 
> Graves peeing in someone's mouth and making them swallow it. That's it, that's the prompt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE THAT THE RATING HAS CHANGED!
> 
> ALSO, TAGS RELEVANT TO THIS CHAPTER: WATERSPORTS, BDSM
> 
> (did anyone really think I would manage to stay on the fluff track????)

Percival couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was about Credence that pulled him in so completely. Of course,  _ of course _ he was beautiful; all sharp angles and smooth skin just made prettier by the contrast of the old scars marring it. And his eyes… Percival would have killed for those eyes.

The thing was - as he found out over the months the boy had been in his care after everything that happened with Grindewald - that Credence actually had a sweet, submissive nature. He wasn’t helpless, he wasn’t weak, he just… preferred to be taken care of and instructed. 

He’d tried at first; worked hard to pull Credence out of his shell, to make him more independent, to make him self-assured and confident, and he did succeed. To an extent.

Percival suspected that there was a great, ugly, jumbled mess of emotions and issues behind that behavior, but when all was said and done, he wanted Credence to be happy. It took him a long time to understand that their versions of happiness didn’t quite align, and even longer to accept that this was actually something that Credence wanted. Maybe even  _ needed _ .

After that, it was frighteningly easy to get lost in their roles. Sometimes Percival had to stop for a moment and evaluate what he was doing, to think it over if his actions were really for both of their benefit and not just him drunken with the power he held.

Maybe he would think about this too, later, when his boy was safely asleep and he had a moment to himself for self-reflections. But not now. Now he had to concentrate on Credence.

“That’s my boy,” he said, voice low and soothing as Credence kneeled down in front of him, his hands clasped behind his back. There was a certain fragile dip to the line of his naked shoulders. Not exactly uncertainty, but close. This was new territory for the both of them, and Percival was set on making it good.

He reached out and ran his fingers alongs Credence’s delicate jaw. He looked like some otherworldly, fae creature. Maybe he had some Veela blood in his veins, because Percival did certainly feel like he was enchanted every time he let his gaze linger.

Credence closed his eyes, lashes impossibly long and dark, fluttering against his cheeks, and he had to try hard not to dwell on the beauty of his boy to keep himself from getting completely hard.

Maybe later.

Percival brushed his thumb against Credence’ pink lips and they fell open under the light pressure, the boy’s tongue sneaking out to taste his skin, making him smile. There were no words to describe how Credence looked in these moments. He looked like he was  _ home _ , somehow.

“Are you ready, darling?” he asked just as quietly, his free hand going to his slacks. Credence nodded, but that would not cut it. Not for this.

Percival tightened his fingers on the boy’s face - just a fraction - but it was enough.

“Yes. Yes, Mr. Graves,” Credence told him, barely louder than an exhale. Alright then.

He pulled down his zipper, but made sure to keep touching the boy kneeling in front of him. Credence was a peculiar creature. Some forms of touches would send him into a panic, but others he constantly craved. It was a learning curve. For the both of them.

Percival was half-hard. There was nothing to do about it, but that was okay. He just had to be careful not to get carried away before the main event.

He shifted his hold on Credence and pulled him in, closing the few inches separating them until the fat head of his cock was touching those lovely, full lips. The boy made a little sound in the back of his throat, his nostrils flaring in a split second of hesitation. Percival didn’t force it, and his reward was Credence’s mouth opening willingly, sucking him in gently, like he was the most precious thing in the world.

“That’s it, my sweet boy. You’re so good to me, aren’t you?”

Credence blinked his eyes open, flushing with the praise, making him smile.

“Yes you are, you are a very, very good boy,” he said. It might have been his favorite thing in the world to shower his lover his praise. 

His hands wandered, cupping Credence’s cheek and then trailing over to this hair, burying his fingers in those pretty, thick locks. He didn’t pull. That was a big no. But his boy did love it when Percival dug his fingers into his scalp, petting him carefully until his whole body relaxed.

He was nervous, but made sure not to show it. There was no need to let the boy know about his own doubts and turmoils, this wasn’t about him.

“Alright, darling, I’m going to go now,” he warned. Credence was vibrating with anticipation, breathing heavy, and for a second Percival thought that this might have been a bad idea, but then it was already too late, once you let go, you can’t really stop.

Credence whined when the first drops of urine hit his tongue, almost jerking away, but Percival was ready, holding him still as gingerly as he could; if there was one thing that could send his boy into despair, it was his own failure, and he couldn’t let that happen. Credence could do anything he set his mind to, and this was no different, even if he needed a little help to start.

The boy swallowed as soon as he felt that Percival was not going to let him back out. He swallowed and choked and then swallowed again, a drop of piss escaping his mouth and rolling down his chin.

“You are doing so well, darling, keep it down for me, hm? Drink for me, my boy,” he said, murmuring a constant stream of encouragement. He let go of his cock - trusting Credence to not let it slip free - and bent down a bit, using his free hand to cup that delicate, long neck. It was half for comfort and half so he could… so he could feel it, feel his sweet boy’s throat working as he swallowed and swallowed and swallowed Percival’s piss, his Adam’s Apple bobbing jerkily with every gulp.

“You are amazing, darling, I’m so proud of you,” Percival told him, voice growing deep and heated despite his best intentions. “You are so  _ beautiful _ , just keep going.”

Credence was crying, quiet even in that, with no sound, just tears running down his cheeks, and Percival wiped them away, then pressed his thumb right there, to the corner of the boy’s mouth, pressing until piss was tricking out, sliding down and splattering to the hardwood floor.

Credence shivered, his whole body breaking out in goosebumps.

“Just a bit more, my boy, almost done, almost finished, you’re doing so well for me…”

His cock hurt from the need to get hard, and he heaved a sigh of relief when the stream of urine finally tapered off and stopped, Credence swallowing the last mouthful with a moan. 

Percival pulled back, his cock already chubbing up and fell to his knees, hugging his boy close.

The legs of his slacks were getting soaked by the small puddle of piss on the floor, but he didn’t care, how could he? When Credence was shaking and gasping in his arms, like he was falling apart.

“That was wonderful, my boy. You are unbelievable,” he said, rubbing the boy’s back. Credence abandoned his careful pose and clung to him, fingers digging into Percival’s suit, like that was the only thing keeping him above the water.

Credence was hard. Had been, since they started, but by now Percival knew that he shouldn’t acknowledge it, the shame there was too deeply rooted despite all the progress they’ve made. He just shifted until he had a leg between the boy’s, letting Credence do what nature dictated without commenting on it.

The boy jerked against his knee, lifted himself a fraction so he could rub his hardness against Percival’s thigh, rutting against him in short, shaky motions.

“That’s it, darling, just like that,” he whispered, holding on.

Credence came quick, his release spilling against the fabric of his slacks and then stilled, exhausted and sated and calm.

Percival kissed the side of his face.

“Well done, my boy. So very well done.”


	5. Credence/Original!Percival - face sitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rospeaks asked:  
> Credence/Graves for the daddy / gentle dom meme #18
> 
> 18\. “Come here baby and sit on my face”

Percival had a long day at MACUSA and thanks to Newt’s recent visit - and the mishaps it caused - he would likely have another long one ahead of him.

What he would have liked to do more than anything was to get some sleep. With Goldstein back on his team things were running a lot smoother in the Magical Security department, but that didn’t mean he could slack off. 

Not when he still felt like he had to make up for crimes committed with his face.

That would have been a lot easier if Credence wouldn’t have kept fidgeting; one moment he was deadly still, like he wanted to pretend that he was asleep, and the next he would twitch, kick out with his cold feet, or jab an elbow into Percival’s side.

He knew that Credence had a bad day too, and that was the only thing stopping him from snapping. His boy came so far since he’d been found and excused for his actions as an Obscurial - under conditions that he would be trained and kept under careful supervision.

Credence had been practicing wand magic again, Percival just knew. If there was one thing to get him in such a state it was constant failure. The expert they’ve consulted told them from the beginning that it was unlikely that his magic would ever be… ‘clean’ enough for traditional magic, but nonetheless, Credence kept trying, no matter how many times Percival told him that it was alright.

It didn’t matter that the boy was getting along wonderfully with wandless magic, or that he showed great promise in any field of wizardry that didn’t require the use of one. He understood of course; Credence just wanted to be normal. Or at least as normal he could be in this new and strange world he’d been thrown into.

Still, enough was enough.

Percival flicked his wrist, lighting the lamps in the room, and Credence sat up, his back bowed, like he wanted to make himself smaller, as he often did when he feared of being reprimanded.

“I… I’m sorry, Percival. I think. I think I should sleep on the couch? You’ve been working so hard and I…”

Percival felt his chest tighten. Credence was beautiful and smart and _talented_. If only he could make his boy see that too.

“Hush, my boy, you will do no such thing,” he said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Credence, like he was reading his mind, waved his hand and the lights dimmed. It was mind-blowing how he couldn’t see that even that required years of practice for people raised with magic…

“Should I… should I sleep on the floor?”

Percival huffed out a breath. He knew that telling the boy how absurd that idea even was wouldn’t help in the least, so he just shook his head, smiling.

“No, my boy. What you need is something to relax you. I know you’re tired too, you’re just too keyed up to sleep,” he said, looking at Credence in consideration. He was honestly too exhausted to fuck him, even thought that would have been just what they both needed… Well…

He caught Credence’s wrist, running his thumb over the pulse point.

“Come here, baby, and sit on my face,” he said with a slow smile. For a second his boy looked almost scandalized, his  Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down, eyes wide as he looked down at Percival.

“Come on, it will help, I promise,” he said, tugging on Credence’s hand a bit. The boy moved, jerky, like he didn’t know what to do, but that was okay, Percival was there to help.

This wasn’t something they did. Not for just the act itself at least, so he pulled Credence into position, to straddle his head, facing the other way.

The boy’s thighs were trembling as he held himself, a bit wary, but a lot turned on if his twitching cock was anything to go by.

Percival reached up to hold onto his slim hips, pulling him down.

“It’s okay, baby,” he said. Credence was actually a very sensuous creature, he just needed a little coaxing.

The boy jerked like he’d been electrocuted the second Percival’s tongue touched his hole, it made him smile. Showering Credence with praise and affection was something he didn’t think he would ever grow tired of.

Percival just played at first, running the tip of his tongue around that sweet little rim before lapping at it with broad, slow swipes. Credence tasted amazing, the only thing more wonderful were the little, bitten off moans that fell out of his mouth. There was something so… honest about him that always made Percival bless his life for ever meeting him.

He kissed Credence’s hole, sealing his lips around the small opening and working his tongue inside, slicking it up and making the muscles relax.

The boy was trembling under his hands and a second later Percival could feel something wet hitting his chest. It didn’t take much imagination to know that Credence was leaking, his lean cock dripping precome all over Percival.

If anything that just made him work harder. He was too tired to get it up himself - he missed being young enough to get an erection from the slightest breeze - but that didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying every second of this.

Credence groaned, his breath hitching. One of his hands was fluttering over Percival’s skin, like he wasn’t sure what to do with it, so he pulled back slightly.

“It’s alright my boy, take care of yourself,” he suggested. Sometimes that was still hard for Credence. It didn’t make much sense from the outside; he would gladly accept affection and enjoyed sex as much as a healthy young man could, but there was still some block he had to overcome every time he had to take himself in hand. Giving himself pleasure was not something Credence was familiar with.

Still, thankfully it was easier the hornier he was, and it didn’t take long for Percival to hear the unmistakable sounds of the boy jerking himself off. Slow at first, but speeding up quickly as he got back to work on his whole. 

Yeah, just like that.

He couldn’t help smiling against that cute hole before delving back inside, mapping the velvety insides of him with his tongue. Credence whined, his whole body shaking. Percival squeezed his hips and pulled him down a bit more, not caring about cutting off his air for a bit. There wasn’t anything in the world he would have rather done than eat his sweet, sweet boy out.

Credence came with a shout, his release splattering against Percival’s skin, just barely holding himself up on trembling thighs. The poor thing was as weak as a colt in the wake of his orgasm, and Percival helped him lay down, guiding his body until they were snuggled against each-other again.

“Better?” he asked, though it was obvious. All those hard angles and sharp contrasts evened out, his boy looking dozy and sated for once.

Credence nodded and then frowned as he burrowed closer, making the mess he made disappear with a single motion of his delicate hand.

Percival grinned, turning the lights off and pulling him closer. He kissed the top of the boy’s head.

“You don’t even know how special you are,” he murmured, but Credence was already - blessedly - asleep.


	6. Credence/other, Credence/Graves - prostitution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> I think Credence has/had a side-job besides flyer-spreading. Someone needed to bring the money home for the paper, ink, soup ... He is shy/ looking at his shoes cos he would get told that sex was a sin and laying with men even worse. So on one side it brings money and pleasure and on the other side he can't speak about it and gets put down.

It’s not something they talk about; his Ma sends him out a few times a week, telling him that he should ‘go on a long walk and reflect on his sins’.

So he does. She knows that this is one of his sins too, and she’s always looking at Credence when they read their bible passage and it happens to be the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. The worse sin is not that he does it, it’s that he… doesn’t mind it.

He knows it should be confusing, but it isn’t for him. His family needs money - serving the Lord is not cheap - and he is a sinner in a world brimming with sin. Ma will let it slide while he it lasts, but that doesn’t make his soul any less rotten for doing it.

There are parts of the city he goes to. The church is not in a very nice neighborhood, and it only takes ten minutes for the buildings on the street to morph into rotten door frames, peeling paint and dark alleys.

Credence stops next to one such alley; its mouth gaping and black like Hell and he waits, standing by the wall and looking at his shoes. His hands twitch, restless without pamphlets to hand out. Sometimes he has to stand there until his neck grows stiff bent like that, sometimes he doesn’t have to wait long. He isn’t sure which one is better.

Someone steps up to him, plants a hand on the brownstone next to his head. Credence doesn’t look up. These men don’t like to be looked at, and he doesn’t like looking at them either.

“You up for a little fun?” the man asks, and Credence nods mutely, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. He turns into the alley, imagines disappearing into the belly of the underworld.

The man follows him and as soon as they are somewhat safely out of sight he pushes on Credence’s shoulder with a meaty hand. He goes to his knees easily, raising his face now in the comfort of darkness. The man mutters something under his breath, cursing probably, but his hands make quick work of his pants and then the already slick head of his cock nudges at Credence’s lips. He opens them obediently, letting his eyes fall shut as that heavy weight slides over his tongue. It doesn’t taste bad, but it’s not… It’s not clean either. The man smells like sweat and his cock is salty. Maybe he didn’t get to shower today. Maybe not even yesterday.

But who is Credence to judge, on his knees and swallowing him down with his own cock twitching in his pants.

That’s the worst part. The part where his body betrays him, acting like this is… like this is something that should be good, that could be good, if only Credence gave in to its demands.

He never does. 

The man pushes into his mouth, fisting a hand in his hair and yanking him forward violently. It’s sudden and it hurts. Credence welcomes the pain - the punishment - but the surprise still makes him choke. That only seems to make the man more violent and his hips slam forward again and again until spots start dancing in his vision. For a brief second he thinks about dying here.

He won’t.

He can’t. Ma said - after the first time, when he went home crying - that he should man up and take it. She said dying like this would be suicide in God’s eyes, and then no amount of remorse would save his soul from burning for an eternity.

The man finishes before that though, splattering his release down Credence’s throat and pulling back immediately. He huffs and puffs and digs a banknote out of his pocket after straightening his clothes.

He throws it on the ground and leaves without a word, which is alright with Credence. He needs to gather himself before he can go out there again, it’s almost easy to just stay there on his knees.

He is nearly ready when a shadow appears at the mouth of the alley. Backlit like that, with a long billowing coat around him he looks like an angel. Or a demon. Credence isn’t sure it matters.

He can’t see his face, but snatches up the money anyway. Even from just his silhouette the stranger looks polished and wealthy and not like a police officer, but Credence doesn’t like to assume.

He crosses the distance between them in a few, long steps and then he is standing above him. He smells good, is what Credence notices first. He smells good and his hand is warm and gentle as he cups Credence’s face.

He doesn’t know why it, but that touch, the carefulness of it, makes him tremble and his eyes fill with tears. 

The strangers shifts a bit, just enough to let a sliver of light fall on Credence’s face. It makes him flinch. It’s important to not be seen, and not to see anyone around here.

The strangers shifts back right away, shushing him under quietly, his voice is deep and warm and almost like a caress.

Credence can’t stop shaking.

“Will you let me…” it’s not really a question, but he parts his lips, knowing the stranger feels them moving under his thumb that wandered over to his mouth.

The stranger hums, but for a long moment just keeps brushing the pad of his thumb over his lips and Credence… Credence doesn’t know what to do with that. His mouth still tastes bitter and his heart is beating double, but a part of him that is always - always - roiling is suddenly and unexplainably quiet.

His tongue sneaks out without his permission, desperate to get a taste of that warm skin, and the man chuckles.

“There you go,” he says and works his cock free with one hand.

At least he knows this part. It’s wrong, it’s sinful, but it’s familiar.

Credence knows what he has to do. Open up and take it. Let it happen. Try not to die.

But. But his body has other ideas. There’s something about this stranger that puts him at ease and sets him on edge like nothing ever did before, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s leaning forward. Eager. Hungry.

The stranger moans a little when Credence kisses along his length and it sets a fire in his belly that is almost too hot to handle.

“That’s it,” he says, still cupping his face, but his free hand runs through Credence hair. He expects to be held in place or pulled forward, but it stays just that; and unhurried caress that makes his scalp tingle.

He kisses and licks and mouths at the stranger’s cock. It tastes clean. Like skin and a bit of soap, and - at the tip - like precome. Credence laps it up, thirsty and desperate, fighting with his need to get it in his mouth and to lean into the hand so warm on his cheek.

When he finally swallows the stranger down, it’s bliss. He keeps humming and hushing and murmuring things that he can’t understand, but that sound… affectionate. It’s not something that ever happened before and he keeps shivering under the assault of it.

His throat hurts. He is being too greedy, going to fast. There’s drool sliding down his chin but he doesn’t care.

The stranger doesn’t move. Doesn’t force him, doesn’t make him do anything, and maybe that’s the magic of it. It makes this feel like a service, like a worship and Credence has never been this worshipful while on his knees, even if that admission costs him his eternal soul.

There’s the slightest warning of the fingers tightening in his hair and then the stranger comes, his seed spilling into his mouth and Credence is eager as he swallows it down, desperate to not let a drop of it go to waste.

The stranger doesn’t pull back right away. He lets Credence just cushion his cock on his tongue for a few blessed seconds.

When he steps back eventually the loss of the contact almost hurts.

The stranger puts himself away unhurriedly. He takes out his valet and then actually holds his money out for Credence, waiting patiently until he takes it. There’s more than one bill. They are crisp and there’s too much of them. Way too much.

“Go home, my boy,” the stranger says, and then he’s gone as quickly as he came, leaving him alone in the darkness.

For the first time, Credence opens his own pants and does not go home hard and aching and ashamed.


	7. Credence/Graves - first kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rospeaks asked:  
> Credence Prompt! First kiss

Credence is nervous. It makes little sense, he’d known Mr. Gr- no. Percival, he’d known Percival for a long time now. They worked together on his magic twice a week since he came to live with the Goldstein sisters three years ago, they were almost friends.

It isn’t even their first date, for Heaven’s sake.

Still. Credence is nervous, because he just knows that today things would change. The last time they went out to dinner it nearly happened, he could see Percival looking at his lips when they parted in the door… Tonight would be the night.

A part of him knows how silly it is to worry about his first kiss when he’s nearing twenty five, a voice in the back of his mind keeps whispering that something must be wrong with him for not having anyone to make that leap with by this age, but deep down he knows that Percival was always the one he wanted to give it to.

Credence isn’t proud of it, but he hides in his room for most of the afternoon, agonizing over what to wear, if he should tie his hair up or not… So many choices. Back… back _before_ , it was easier; his Ma cut his hair and he only had two sets of nearly identical clothes to pick from.

Queenie can’t seem to tire of sewing him new things, waistcoats, shirts, suits of soft, elegant materials… He feels like he would combust with indecision, but then remembers Percival’s eyes that one time when he told Credence how good he looked in his green scarf.

He has a deep, bottle green three-piece in his closet he didn’t have a chance to wear yet, and there’s a pale yellow shirt to go with it. That will have to do.

He lets his hair hang low, framing his face in gentle waves. He likes his hair like this, and he hopes Percival will too.

Credence ends up in front of the mirror, biting his lips as he looks himself over. He feels awkward and jittery, but the man reflected back to him looks at least passably elegant. He digs his toes into the thick rug under his feet.

Percival is going to kiss him tonight. He has to.

Credence wonders how it’s going to feel. Maybe nothing extraordinary, just a dry press of lips against lips.

His hand is shaking a bit when he raises it to his mouth, closing his eyes and kissing the back of it. It doesn’t feel like anything, and he knows that he must look like an idiot.

Maybe he is an idiot.

Maybe it won’t even happen today.

Credence almost jumps out of his skin when someone knocks on his door.

“Darling, Percy is here for you,” Queenie says, cheerful as always, but the words make him freeze. He’s not ready yet! He doesn’t… he doesn’t have socks on. Or shoes.

He meets his own gaze on the mirror, they look a bit terrified and his face is flushed an ugly, blotchy pink.

“Darling?” Queenie asks, she doesn’t sound worried. She can probably hear his thoughts through the door and the realization just makes Credence more embarrassed.

“Coming,” he croaks out. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he throws his door open and his legs carrie him to the foyer where Percival is already waiting.

He looks…

He looks heartbreakingly handsome, as always; his hair has more gray in it than when they first met, and the crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes are a little deeper, but there has not been a day yet, when the sight of him didn’t make Credence’ breath stuck in his lungs.

“Percival,” he says, barely more than an exhale as he pulls to an abrupt stop in front of the man. He knows he’s being weird, but he’d been anxious all day, and it looks like he’s finally going mad with pent up tension.

“Credence,” he says, his voice is low and soft and brushes over Credence like a caress. Percival can’t look away from his eyes either, and he doesn’t know what that means. He just knows that his heart is beating fast and his palms are sweaty and his mouth is dry.

He licks his lips without a thought, and Percival’s gaze drops down to follow the movement.

The moment feels to heavy, making it hard to breath.

“I don’t have socks on,” Credence says, like that explains anything and then he surges forward, smashing his mouth against Percival’s.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.

They were supposed to go out for dinner and watch a play. Then they were supposed to walk home in the late-summer night, holding hands and Percival was… Percival was supposed to kiss him in the door.

That isn’t what happens though, and Credence can’t bring himself to care, because he’s terrified and happy and melting from the inside when Percival takes everything in stride, putting his arms around Credence’s frame, his palms warm and solid and gentling him down.

Percival tips his head and Credence shivers as it makes their lips rub together.

It’s soft and dry and has no reason to be the best thing that ever happened to him.

And still, it is.


	8. Credence/Graves - sex toy + nipple play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> "Suck on my nipples, baby, I know you like something in your mouth."

Percival likes to show Credence new things. He likes the wonder and he likes the awe the new heights he can push his boy to. Food is one thing, and clothes and anything Credence sets his eyes on with the slightest bit of interest.

There’s very little Percival wouldn’t hand him on a silver plate.

And the other thing is the pleasures of the flesh. Credence is magnificent. He is innocent and shy but after all of those rigid layers are peeled away one by one he is needy and wanton.

The most beautiful creature Percival ever laid eyes on.

Like now, twisting on the bed, his naked, slim body overthrown with pleasure, his skin flushed pink and his pupils blown wide, swallowing the deep brown of his iris.

“Sir,” he says. Moans, more like. His thin, elegant fingers are fisted in the sheets, knuckles white from the death grip he has on the linen.

“Yes, my boy?”

Percival is not trying to be mean. Credence still lacks in certain aspects - like asking for what he wants - and this is good practice. His body is needy, but his mind is still restrained in lies and the poisonous morality of his upbringing.

“Please,” Credence whispers, his voice sweet and broken and almost enough to sway his resolve. Almost.

“You have to tell me what you need, baby” Percival tells him, keeping his tone gentle. He flicks his wrist - just a tiny fraction - and the toy pushed deep into Credence’s body must be obeying, wiggling more vigorously, because the boy arches off the bed, so violent that Percival is worried he will hurt himself.

Credence’s cock is hard, angry looking and almost purple, and still, the sweet boy doesn’t even try to bring himself relief. Percival told him to try to come just from the enchanted metal egg in his bottom, and he is trying.

Credence hates failing, and it just makes him more precious for Percival.

“Help me,” he says, and Percival sits on the edge of the bed. The boy’s eyes are wide, and he tries to reach over, to pull him close, but the toy - under his command - takes it up another notch, rendering him unable to move a muscle other than to twitch and jerk with pleasure.

“Tell me, my boy,” Percival prods, and finally, as soon as he able to catch his breath, he does.

“Please… please, sir, please come here.”

Percival smiles and lays down beside him, letting Credence curl into his side as his body fights the incessant buzzing of the egg. He is crying a bit, but it doesn’t look like pain. Too much, maybe, but for all his reservedness, his boy is never one to back down from a challenge.

Percival puts his arms around him, careful not to rub against that reddened, stiff cock. Credence will have to let go and get there on his own.

The boy’s forehead is sweaty as it presses over Percival’s heart, his lips bitten red from the constant worrying of his teeth. It looks like they must be hurting.

He kisses the crown of Credence’s head.

“Suck on my nipples, baby, I know you like something in your mouth,” he says, and has to moan when the boy latches on eagerly, eyes falling closed.

“That’s it, baby, just like that. Let your mind go blank and let it happen,” Percival tells him. His fingers twitch on Credence’s skin when the boy’s lips nip on him. What a wanton, wonderful creature.

Credence whines, high when the toy grows even stronger, shaking him apart from the inside and his body seizes up, goes rigid for a second before turning boneless in Percival’s arms as his release washes over him.

“So good for me, so very good,” he says when it’s done, quieting the egg and hugging his boy even closer, uncaring of the mess.

So very, very good.


	9. Credence/Graves - sort of angsty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rospeaks asked:  
> More Credence prompts? A warm bed

It doesn’t happen as often nowadays, but it still does.

On nights like this Percival wakes in the darkness, shaking, feeling like the world is shrinking, closing in around him. The air is stifling.

Credence is still asleep, he thinks. Or he might not be, he has no time to check, doesn’t have the focus as he stumbles out of the bedroom. 

Percival doesn’t turn the lights on until the bathroom door is securely closed behind him. Everything is white tiles and mirrors. It’s not big, but the ceiling is high, and all the shiny surfaces give the pretense of space.

He turns on the water and climbs into the shower in his pajamas, letting the cold water soak through the fabric. He curls up on the floor, pulling his knees up.

The water is beating down on him, a constant, steady pressure, little pin-pricks of cold that shock him out of the dream that his head is still stuck in.

Percival’s brain is desperate to latch onto something.

He stays there for a long time, staring at the white door, at the two bathrobes hanging off it. One is white, the other light green.

Green is Credence’s color. Oh, anything in the world would go with his pale skin and dark hair, but he likes green the most. Percival doesn’t know if that’s significant or not. Spring is green. Life is green. Envy is green.

None of those things describe Credence. 

His boy is a winter child, he imagines when he was born in the mid of January it had to be cold outside, cold enough to empty the streets of beggars. Maybe it was snowing. Percival could see that; something light and unassumingly deadly covering the streets, swallowing the sounds of civilization.

Credence’s magic is twisted and disfigured and wrong. He can’t heal with spells or charms. Can’t even heal the broken parts of himself. Percival wonders if that would have been different if he were raised in magic.

It doesn’t matter. Because the most important thing is that Credence is _stronger_. He is more than the mangled strains of his magic. He is more than the suffering he survived. He is strong. Maybe too strong. Sometimes the knowledge of what he is, of what he keeps so effortlessly locked in his heart is terrifying. Were Credence raised in magic, he would have had the power to reshape the world, or destroy it.

Credence is not envious. 

No, that’s not true. He is envious of a lot of things. Of witches and wizards doing things he was too late to learn. He is envious of people full of happy memories and pasts loud with love and laughter. Credence is envious of a lot of things, but the thing is… he is grateful for what he has.

Percival wonders. His mind keeps wandering, eyes stuck on the door. Had Credence been the one imprisoned by Grindelwald, would he have broken as easily as he did? He doesn’t think so. 

He stops thinking for a while, the terrified beat of his heart slowing with the cold, growing sluggish.

Percival blinks when the door opens. Not all the way, just an inch. And inch of darkness against the light, but it doesn’t look so frightening anymore. It looks warm and deep, like a plush carpet.

“Come out?” Credence ask, almost too quiet to hear over the pounding of the water. Unsure. “The bed is warm,” he says, like it makes a difference.

The silly thing is, it does.


	10. Credence/Percival - funny nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Person A has a nightmare, and Person B has to console them, but as they tell it and it gets more and more insane, Person B has to fight off laughter.

Percival woke in the middle of the night to someone smacking him in the face.

He sat up fast enough that he got dizzy, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing his wand and muttering a _lumos_ , ready to take down whoever attacked him in his sleep.

His alarm was for nothing it seemed, as he was alone. Well, they were alone, with Credence sleeping fitfully beside him, tossing and turning and moaning in the grasp of whatever dream he was having.

Percival put his wand down, trying to calm his heartbeat. He might have been cleared for duty again, but that didn’t mean he sometimes didn’t feel like he had more on his plate than he could handle.

The light was still flickering at the end of his wand, casting the bedroom into shaky, blue light. 

“Credence. My boy, wake up, it’s just a dream,” he said, cupping his face as gently as he could. Credence didn’t wake with a start, not even when he was having awful nightmares; he didn’t scream or bolt up, he always woke with a little gasp, eyes fluttering open, clouded with terror and confusion.

It wasn’t different now either.

“P… Percival?”

“Yes, I’m here, all is well, you’re in bed,” he gave his usual report. They both had their fair share of night terrors, there was no way around it. He couldn’t even remember how many times Credence did the same thing for him.

“Oh.”

The boy closed his eyes and swallowed, breathing intentionally slow and deep.

“You want to talk about it?” Percival asked. It was the next thing they regularly did in such situations. Dreams were often irrational, and spoken out loud dispelled their hold on them usually.

Credence nodded, sitting up. Percival pulled him close against his side. It was funny how the boy could fit so perfectly there, even though he was taller than Percival by a good few inches.

“It’s… I. We were in MACUSA? The… the president wanted to talk to us. To me.” Credence started haltingly. 

“I don’t know about what, I don’t remember. But. Mr. Scamander was there. He was searching for his niffler again,” Credence said with a frown.

Despite the situation, Percival couldn’t help but find that a little funny. It took a long time for Credence to come to grasp with all the bright new things in the magical world, and for some reason he had an especially hard time with the magical creatures.

Maybe because he admitted to sometimes asking the man selling newspapers near the church if he could read the nature magazines. He liked animals very much, and science, and somehow he couldn’t wrap his head around animals that could turn invisible or teleport or do any of the other amazing things.

“Did he find it?” Percival prodded gently, rubbing his hand up and down the boy’s arm.

Credence’s face soured even more.

“No. Well, yes. We sat down in your office to have tea, and then… then the niffler was there? And he just… he looked at you - you were wearing your silver tie,the shiny one - and he… and he put you in his pocket,” Credence remembered, clearly in distress.

Percival tried to gently shush him without making his amusement obvious.

He’d been stolen by the niffler? That was new.

Credence continued.

“And… and I was so scared, cause you were just gone, and I couldn’t catch it! And then Mr. Scamander showed up again and he caught the niffler. I told him that it stole you, and he said he would get you out, but wouldn’t let me come down into the suitcase…”

Percival nodded along, even though that seemed to be the most implausible part of the story yet. Ever since they realized how uncomfortable Credence was with magical creatures, Newt had been set on changing his mind. He would have dragged the boy down there to feed the mooncalves in no time, no matter the situation.

“And then what happened?” Percival asked, unable to stop his smile.

Credence averted his face, the tip of his ears turning red.

“Then, then I waited for a long time for him to come back, but he didn’t. So I opened the suitcase, but there were only Mr. Kowalsky’s pastries in it. And one of them looked like you.”

There was no possible way to stop himself from chuckling, so he probably deserved the elbow jabbed into his side.

Thankfully Credence was smiling by now too.

“Alright, alright, I know it sounds silly, but I was scared,” he said.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Percival said after regaining his composure. He kissed the boy’s temple and waved the light off. “But we’re all okay now. Nobody is going to eat me.”

Credence grumbled a bit as they lay back, snuggling close to each-other under the warm covers.

“Well, I just might,” the boy said, making Percival burst out laughing.

They both fell asleep with smiles on their faces.


	11. Credence/Percival - crossing the street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Person A is reckless and cross any street with impunity. Person B has to cross at crosswalks. They go on walks together

New York was beautiful in the fall.

Credence didn’t notice that before; back when he was living in the church with Ma, the only thing that mattered was how cold it was outside. Hot was bad, cold was bad. Not too cold was good, but when he was outside, Credence spent most of his time staring at the pavement, watching as all those shiny, new shoes passed by him on the street.

Living with Mr. Graves was starkly different.

Oh, Mr. Graves worked a lot, sometimes from dawn to dusk, or even longer. Credence didn’t like those days very much, but he understood how important Mr. Graves’ position was, especially after everything that happened.

He couldn’t be grateful enough that the man even took him in - opposing the president herself, when she wished for Credence to be put to jail. Of course, he knew it hadn’t been just kindness. Mr. Graves was adamant that Grindlewald would be back for Credence now that the Brits managed to let him slip free.

It was a scary perspective, but Credence wasn’t so afraid now, knowing that Mr. Graves would be protecting him.

Their relationship had been rocky at first, both of them too weighed down by the trauma of what happened to them, but after a while they managed to find a common ground. Even a kind of… mutual respect. Or at least that was what Credence hoped.

There were a few things, though, that they couldn’t be reconciled on.

“Would you care for some ice cream, my boy?” Mr. Graves asked him as they took their usual Sunday afternoon walk in the city. Fall was just beginning, and it was still deceptively warm, though the leaves have already started to change colors.

Mr. Graves - for some reason - loved to buy him all sorts of sweets, from candy to cake, on one, memorable occasion even taking him to Mr. Kowalsky’s bakery. Mr. Graves acted like he didn’t recognize the jovial man behind the counter, and even went so far as to pretend not to notice Miss. Goldstein hiding in the back room.

That had been a lovely afternoon too.

“Yes, Mr. Graves,” Credence replied belatedly. He never had ice cream before moving in with Mr. Graves, and he found it hard to say no to it.

Central park was just on the other side of the street, and he could see the striped top of the ice cream cart from where they were walking.

“Very well, come on then,” the man said, taking a sharp turn and just about to step right into traffic. Credence really should have expected it by now, but still, the blood froze in his veins, and he grabbed Mr. Graves sleeve in the last second. He didn’t dare yank him back, but still managed to stop him in his tracks.

The man huffed out a breath.

“This again? It’s just across the street,” he grumbled, though thankfully there was no real annoyance in his voice.

Credence let his coat go quickly, averting his eyes. He was sure he would never get used to seeing Mr. Graves crossing a street as he usually did; uncaring of the cars barreling towards him, and stopping them for just a second with a flick of his wrist when they got too close. Mr. Graves usually had some concealing charms cast over himself, so none of the people - none of the no-majs - noticed that anything was amiss, but for Credence just the sight was enough to break out in a cold sweat.

“I… I’m sorry, Mr. Graves,” he said, wringing his hands. “It’s just… the crosswalk is just a bit farther away, I mean…”

He felt silly. Of course Mr. Graves could cross the street however he wanted. Credence saw him doing things much more powerful than stopping a few cars inches from his body… But still. It always looked so dangerous…

Mr. Graves rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Alright then, if we must,” he said with a dramatic sigh and laced their arms together as he pulled Credence into a walk again.

Credence went with it, ducking his head to hide the blush overcoming him at the contact.

New York really was beautiful in the fall.


	12. Credence/Percival - dinner (no porn)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Person A and Person B are out for dinner. Person A’s food comes out wrong but they don’t want to make a big deal about it. Person B thinks that Person A only deserves what they want.

If there was one thing Percival came to love over the year since their run in with Grindelwald, it was spoiling Credence rotten. There was something about the boy that made him want to pamper him with whatever he desired; Percival got him all the books on the magical world he could imagine, bought him clothes of the highest quality, and of course. Food.

Credence didn’t like to talk about his life before, but the way he held himself, the way his elbows and knees jutted out and his hips almost pierced his skin? It soon became obvious that other than the beatings, his ‘mother’s’ other favorite punishment had been starvation. Percival suspected that even when she let her children eat Mary Lou Barebone didn’t exactly keep them on a healthy diet.

And that? That had to change.

Percival always thought that eating was extremely important, not only to fuel the body but also to satisfy the soul. Every single time when his cooking managed to bring that certain expression of wonder to Credence’s face he felt like he’d broke down one more wall.

Not like… not like he wanted to get intimately close to the boy. That would be improper, and Percival reminded himself of that multiple times a day.

Still. It became a sort of tradition for them to go to a restaurant at least once a week. A continuation of the meeting they had when Credence had just been his informant on the Salemers. Of course, by now it morphed into something else. He didn’t want to butter up the boy anymore. He didn’t need to.

Tonight, they went to a no-mag restaurant; Percival did enjoy anonymity after all, and there was hardly a magical establishment where he wouldn’t be recognized. During these dinners, he wanted to enjoy feeding Credence undisturbed.

The _Olympic_ was a nice restaurant; the walls adorned with tasteful European paintings, the tinted windows giving the whole place a warm glow.

“This is really beautiful, Mr. Graves,” Credence said, eyes wandering over the elegant chandeliers. That was quite alright, because Percival had a hard time hiding his fond smile.

“It does seem so, my boy.”

The maitre d’ checked their reservations and motioned a waiter over to lead them to their table. 

Their seats were in a corner, secluded and out of the way with a nice view of the rest of the room. Percival made a mental note to give a hefty tip.

But, most of his attention was on Credence. The boy sat, flushing a bit when the waiter pushed the chair in for him. That was something Percival would have liked to do, but stopped himself in the last second. For propriety’s sake.

Credence ran his long, pale fingers around the gold edges of the green leather-bound menu before opening it, almost reverently. Percival followed his lead a second later, caught up in how lovely those slim hands looked.

“The sommelier will be with you shortly,” the waiter promised before disappearing.

“What will you order, Mr. Graves?” Credence asked, as he always did. It wasn’t so much to copy him, but Percival did notice the boy’s tendency to order something cheaper than whatever he was having. It was a bit annoying and he hoped he would grow out of it with time, but for now it left him ordering the most expensive item whenever they were eating out.

“Hm… I think I will have the Island Duck with Mulberry Mustard,” he said. From the corner of his eye he could see Credence frown. The boy was catching on to him.

“Oh.”

“And what would you like, my boy?” he asked, closing his own menu. He loved to see the way Credence’s nose scrunched up in concentration before coming to a decision.

“I… what… what do you think about the Lamb Salad with Fregola?”

Percival pretended to think about it. He already knew that his boy loved his lamb, whatever form it came in, but Credence always hesitated because of the prices.

“I think that sounds lovely, and something you should absolutely try.”

Credence gave him a shy smile, his cheeks a bit red in the warm light.

They placed their orders and let the sommelier offer them a young, red wine that would fit both the duck and the lamb, and then settled in to wait.

Credence liked people watching, and after a bit of wine he liked to make up little stories about the people around them. And Percival, in turn, liked watching Credence.

It didn’t take too long for their plates to arrive and for a moment Percival’s senses were overwhelmed by the absolutely beautiful arrangement on his plate. He had to admit that he barely looked up before digging in, the duck pretty much melting on his tongue.

Percival did love his food, if he said so himself.

And that might have been the reason why he didn’t notice right away that something wasn’t quite right.

Credence wasn’t eating. Or at least, not with the usual devotion he usually reserved for the experience.

“Is something wrong?” Percival asked, frowning. And his frown only grew when he got an almost panicked look in exchange.

“No! Everything is great,” Credence told him a bit too quickly for comfort.

Percival put his fork down, and regretted it immediately as the click of it against his plate made the boy flinch a bit. Now that he was paying attention to Credence’s plate he realized what the problem was.

“My boy, is that the lamb you ordered?”

Credence refused to look up, sparing a piece of what appeared to be… leeks with his fork. Credence hated leeks.

“Um…”

Percival sighed.

“I’m sorry about this, my boy, I will call our waiter and…”

“No! Don’t, please, I’m sure it was just… just a mix-up,” Credence said quickly. “It’s actually pretty good, I can…”

Percival cut him off by taking the hand the boy had on the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. Credence fell silent, looking at him with his big, brown eyes.

“I don’t know what worries you, but I will not cause a scene. I’m sure it was an honest mistake, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve the best,” he said.

Credence swallowed, seemingly unable to look away.

Percival kept holding his hand while he called the waiter over. The poor man seemed absolutely mortified at the mix-up after Percival explained what happened, and took Credence’s plate away with deep apologies.

“See? Nothing bad happened,” Percival said while they waited for the lamb once again. Credence took a deep breath.

“I just… I just didn’t want to get him in trouble,” he admitted.

Percival shook his head fondly, making himself let go of the boy’s hand with great effort.

“He won’t. He’d been very polite, and I plan to leave a nice tip for him. I would never take someone’s head for a simple mistake, we all commit them from time-to-time.”

Credence shifted on his seat, finally giving him a smile. It made Percival feel better than any food he ever tasted.

“Thank you.”


End file.
